


forty-nine laps around the sun

by princesskay



Category: Mindhunter (TV 2017)
Genre: Birthday Smut, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:42:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26285146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesskay/pseuds/princesskay
Summary: Holden surprises Bill on his birthday.
Relationships: Holden Ford/Bill Tench
Comments: 12
Kudos: 62





	forty-nine laps around the sun

**Author's Note:**

> In honor of Holt's birthday yesterday, and at the request of ashtheironbat on Tumblr. Thanks for the inspo, hon💛

On the plane ride home from Nebraska, Bill sinks down in his seat, and smokes a cigarette in a hapless attempt to shake off the tension of raw nerves. He’d called Holden before boarding the flight, unwittingly signing himself up to go out to dinner tonight. 

“Please?” Holden had wheedled softly into the telephone, “I’m working late tonight so I’ll still be here when you get home. We can leave straight from here. And we don’t even have to do anything fancy. I just missed you.”

“I’ve been gone a week.”

“I know.” 

Holden had sounded so miffed that Bill couldn’t find it within himself to say ‘no.’ 

With the plane descending into Dulles, he tries his best to push the case to the back of his mind. The details of a little girl’s abduction and murder at the hands of her own uncle aren’t bound to leave his mind any time soon, let alone allow him a good night’s rest despite being home again. What they do is never easy, but seeing a child’s life cut short so brutally is especially harrowing. 

_ Maybe Holden was right.  _ Bill thinks as the plane hits the tarmac.  _ Dinner could be a nice distraction.  _

The drive from the airport to Quantico is long and tedious as late afternoon traffic clogs the highway. Irritation singes across his frayed nerves by the time he pulls in front of the BSU where the first pink rays of sunset frame the austere, gray brick in dusky light. 

He smokes the last of his cigarette, and draws in a deep breath before climbing out of the car. Walking into the building, he mentally suppresses his own sleep-deprived exhaustion. 

He always has this urge to conceal his own worries and weaknesses from everyone, but most especially Holden. It used to be a matter of pride. Now it’s a matter of wanting to protect one of the most important things in his life. Holden has enough problems of his own to worry about - their work being one, his carefully managed stress and panic attacks being the other. He doesn’t need Bill’s stress, too.

In the field, they’re partners, on the same level, equals. At home, it’s something different. He’s always viewed his role in any romantic attachment as that of protector and provider, and if he isn’t doing that job, he’s not fulfilled his side of the relationship. Even coming off a case as difficult as the one he just left, he expects himself to maintain that standard.

There’s still a few stragglers in the main BSU offices at ground level, but when Bill rides the elevator down into the basement, the hollow bowels of the building echo their vacancy. The heavy tread of his boots rasp up and down the corridor, interrupted solely by the distant groan of pipes. He’s bound to find Holden alone in the office, all the lights shut off except for his desk lamp illuminating the piles of case work that he’s allowed to consume him for hours at a time, his eyes going glazed and bloodshot from reading in the dim light for too long.

Bill focuses on the ground as he eases the door open, rearranging his face into reserved aplomb. 

“Happy birthday!” The chorused shout startles him out of his focused facade. 

Bill looks up sharply to see Holden, Wendy, Gregg, and Jim standing around the cake sitting on Holden’s desk. Two candles shaped as the numbers 49 are burning in the middle of the frosting. 

Holden descends into gleeful laughter at the look of astonishment on Bill’s face. Wendy crosses her arms, and bites back a smile while Jim and Gregg appear pleased with the obvious success of their surprise. 

“What is this?” Bill asks. 

“A surprise.” Holden says, crossing the room to drag Bill by the arm to the cake. “Are you surprised?”

“Yes, I’d say so.”

“Are you pissed?” Holden asks, garnering mischievous chuckles from the rest of the group. 

“Not exactly.” Bill says, frowning down at the cake. “I really appreciate the reminder that I’m only one year away from being officially over the hill.”

“Please. Age is just a number.” Wendy says, waving him closer. “It’s how you feel that’s important.”

“I don’t think I should tell you how I feel right now.” 

“Come on,” Holden urges, putting on that voice that makes Bill want to do just about anything for him, “Make a wish.” 

Bill sighs, and leans closer to the cake. 49. Jesus Christ. 

He closes his eyes and blows. 

*

Bill eats too many pieces of cake. It was chocolate, which turned out to be delicious and not exactly something he could hold a grudge over. He’s not one for reminiscing, but while the five of them are sitting around gorging themselves on his birthday dessert, they end up discussing how their program first began. 

Somewhere in the middle of the conversation, Bill looks over at Holden laughing with purple icing smeared on the corner of his mouth and feels his chest all at once go unbearably tight and impossibly soft. 

Five years. Some days, he doesn’t know where the time has gone. It could have been just yesterday that he was laying eyes on Holden in that cafeteria for the first time thinking,  _ Goddamn, what a strange and beautiful boy.  _ It had taken him awhile for that realization to work it’s way past his defenses, his jaded heart, his defaulted assumptions of the world, love, his feelings about men, and how it was all supposed to fit together. Today, he can’t imagine his life without Holden, without his stubbornness, his earnestness, his passion, his love. It seems like the only anniversary worth celebrating. 

As they’re walking out of the BSU building an hour later and into the dying light of dusk, Holden reaches over to grab Bill’s hand. No one else is in the vacant parking lot to see the intimate contact. 

“Well?” He asks. 

“Well what?”

“That wasn’t so bad was it?” Holden asks, his mouth tilting in a giddy smile. 

“No, I suppose not. But I’m standing by my opinion that it’s not really prudent for a man of my age to be celebrating a birthday with such vivacity.”

“Does it help that I think you’ve mellowed with age?”

Bill rolls his eyes and scoffs. “I don’t know. Is that a complement or a slap in the face?”

“A compliment, obviously.”

They both stop in the middle of the parking lot, halfway between where each of their cars are parked. Holden turns to brace both hands against Bill’s chest as Bill grasps him by the waist. 

“Let me drive.” Holden suggests. 

“Why?”

“Because I want to. Because it’s your birthday, and I can tell you’re dead tired right now.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not. You’re exhausted. Let me drive.”

“Fine.”

“Oh, don’t sound so offended.” Holden laughs, grabbing him by the wrist to pull Bill towards his car.

Bill grumbles a reply under his breath as they pile into Holden’s car. 

Holden twists the key in the ignition, and turns to Bill with a coy smile. “You really hate it when I try to do things for you, don’t you?”

“I don’t hate it. I just-”

“Yeah, you hate it. You hate the idea that you’re anything but self-sufficient.”

“Are you profiling me? On my birthday?”

“I see. You only want to acknowledge that it’s your birthday when it works in your favor. That’s nice.” Holden says, conjuring an annoyed glare despite the smirk fighting hard against his pursed lips. 

Bill shrugs. “I guess that’s what I’m allowed to do … on my birthday.”

They share a long stare before Holden starts to laugh, and Bill can’t help the chuckle rising up his chest. 

Holden drives them away from Quantico and towards home with one hand stretched out to grasp Bill’s. 

Sinking down in his seat, Bill strokes Holden’s knuckles with his other hand, and watches as the marigold flash of streetlamps illuminates his soft features. 

When they get home, Holden is quick to dart out of the car, and come around to the passenger’s side to open the door for Bill. He offers his arm, which Bill grudgingly takes, and leads them up the porch steps to the front door. 

The interior of the house is impeccably clean the way it always is when he comes home. Holden likes to clean when he’s away to keep himself occupied, but tonight, the smell of cleaning products is concealed by the warmer strains of cinnamon and vanilla. 

“Were you burning candles?” Bill asks. 

“Yes. It’s relaxing, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t know we owned candles.”

“I bought them.” Holden says, shifting around behind Bill to strip his jacket from his shoulders. “It’s called  _ aroma therapy. _ ”

“That sounds like some hippy shit.”

“Maybe.” Holden says, tossing aside the coat. He slinks back against Bill’s chest, and pulls the knot from his tie. “Maybe not. I thought it might help.”

“Help with what? What are you up to?” Bill asks, frowning curiously at Holden’s eyes glazed with impish excitement.

“You. Relaxing.” Holden says, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Bill’s mouth. 

“Hey, if you want your cock sucked, you don’t have to go to all this trouble-”

“No, of course not.” Holden says, sounding offended. “Bill, it’s  _ your  _ birthday. If anyone’s getting their cock sucked, it’s you.”

“Okay, that’s a birthday surprise I won’t complain about.”

“Good. But first thing’s first.” Holden draws back, clutching Bill by the hands to lead him backwards down the hall toward the bedroom. 

“First things?”

“Yes. While you were gone, I started thinking about what I could do for your birthday.” Holden says, “Because you always buy me really nice gifts and cook me dinner, and I’m not good at any of those things. When you want something, you just buy it. You don’t wait around for me to get it for you, and I don’t think you would appreciate me spending money on you.”

“Not really.”

“So, I thought - what can I do? And then it came to me.”

Bill frowns as Holden stops at the open door of the bedroom, and reaches over to turn the lights on. The bed sheets are turned down, and a bottle of champagne is cooling in a bucket of ice next to another one of the candles Bill didn’t know they owned and a bottle of some oily substance that he doesn’t recognize either. 

“What is all this?” Bill asks, slowly, unable to conjure even a flicker of the annoyance he had felt with the cake. 

“Get undressed.” Holden suggests. 

“What about you?”

“I’m getting undressed, too. But you first.”

Bill unbuttons his shirt, keeping his gaze fixed on Holden’s triumphant expression. “This isn’t as simple as a blowjob, huh?”

“No.” Holden says, motioning for Bill to go to the bed. “Not quite.”

Bill leaves the shirt on the ground behind him, and pauses by the bed to strip out of his undershirt and drop his pants. 

“Lay down on your stomach.” Holden murmurs, sliding up behind him, and pressing a kiss to his shoulder. 

“Holden-”

“God, you are tense.” Holden says, sliding a hand up Bill’s spine and against the knotted muscles of his shoulders. “I can feel it, and I’m barely touching you. Are you really arguing with me about a massage right now?”

“No.” Bill replies, swiftly, his cheeks going hot. 

He crawls onto the bed on his stomach, and lays down with his forearms crossed under his cheek. He peeks over his shoulder as Holden methodically undresses, getting down his briefs before he climbs up and straddles Bill’s backside. 

“I think you get so focused on being the anchor of this relationship that you forget I know you.” Holden says, softly, running his fingertips lightly up Bill’s bare back. 

Bill bites back a shudder as the caress instantly sparks a wave of tingles from his neck all the way down to the base of his spine, in the cradle of his groin where he’s all too susceptible to Holden’s whims. 

“I can tell when you’re tired, and stressed, and fed up.” Holden continues, reaching Bill’s nape with his fingertips. He grazes the touch down Bill’s shoulders, over his deltoids, nails scraping lightly at the backs of his arms. “I love how you want to take care of me, but sometimes I want you to let me take care of you, too.”

Bill presses his eyes shut, and exhales a shivering sigh. Holden’s touch is already making the wound tension in his muscles unspool, the frustration and lingering anxiety from the case slack off like ice melting in midday sunlight. 

“Hmm?” Holden murmurs, bending to press a slow, warm kiss to the back of Bill’s neck, “Can you let me do that?”

Bill nods, not opening his eyes. 

“Good. Now relax.” Holden says, his voice going low and husky against Bill’s ear. “Don’t think about work. Don’t think about moving. Just relax.”

It’s as good as hypnosis. Bill can barely muster the resolve to open his eyes again when he hears Holden grab the bottle of massage oil from the nightstand, and crack the lid open. A hazy glance over his shoulder earns him a glimpse of Holden’s hands warming the oil between them, making his fingers glow soft and buttery in the low light, just before they touch him again. 

It begins gradually at his shoulders, Holden’s hands first smearing a generous amount of the oil across his skin before the meticulous squeeze and push of his fingers kneads the tension straight out of the muscles. The bound grip of his body melts away beneath Holden’s hands, the hint of the headache at the base of his skull dissipating into the fuzzy hum of gently stimulated tingles. 

Holden chuckles quietly as a groan disentangles itself from the back of Bill’s throat. 

“Good?” 

Bill manages a faint nod. 

Holden shifts forward, bringing his weight settling against Bill’s tailbone. The heels of his hands lean harder into the rigid muscles, working their way across his shoulders and down between and the shoulder blades. The determined touch is unwavering, applying just the right amount of pressure to chase the tension from Bill’s body while also setting him adrift into a sea of dazed relaxation and humming shivers. 

As the massage begins to work lower into his back, Bill’s throat produces another helpless moan. 

“Feeling relaxed?” Holden asks, applying deep, recurrent pressure along the bottom of his spine. 

“Fuck …” Bill mutters at the sudden burst of sensation. 

“Sorry. Too hard?”

“No, that’s good.” Bill whispers, hastily, suddenly despising the thought of this treatment ending. “I just didn’t realize what hurts until you started.”

“So I’m finding all the good spots?”

Bill gazes at Holden over his shoulder with half-shut eyes. “And then some.”

Holden bites back a laugh, his cheeks going rosy again. He pauses long enough to get more of the oil, and resumes more gently against Bill’s back. The heels of his hands knead away any lingering resistance with a slow, circular massage that methodically climbs back up past Bill’s shoulder blades to locate the last few knotted muscles. 

Bill bites back a groan when Holden bends forward to brace his elbow into a spot below the join of his neck and shoulder. Holden’s breath is hot against the back of his neck, staggered with intense focus as he moves his elbow in a taut circle against the knot. 

“Oh, fuck-” Bill groans, feeling the tension release with a sudden flash of heat through his body. 

Holden sighs out a pleased sound, and withdraws his elbow. His body hovers parallel above Bill’s, fostering a growing heat between them. He presses another row of warm kisses to Bill’s nape and up into his hairline. 

“Now that you’re relaxed, maybe I can find a few other spots?”

Bill pulse thrums with an intoxicating cocktail of half-conscious relaxation and bubbling, building need. He nods his delirious consent though Holden’s hands are already moving down his back again, finding the waistline of his boxers. His weight lifts long enough to allow the underwear to slide down around Bill’s thighs. 

Bill presses his face into the pillow to smother a desperate moan as Holden’s hands, damp with the oil, massage across his backside. Aroused heat curls hot and fierce in his groin, bringing him raging hard against the silky embrace of the sheets. His hips arch back automatically, yearning for more. 

Holden curls his thumb along the cleft, stretching him open. Next, the warm splash of more oil, then the gradual stroke of Holden’s thumb across the sensitive, puckered skin. 

He grabs at the sheets, bracing himself against the sensation. His knees dig into the mattress, urging himself up against the promise of Holden’s touch crawling into his willing body. 

The sense of exhaustion is gone, replaced by the much stronger grasp of arousal. He can’t focus on anything but the consistent throbbing that’s taken up residence lower in his belly and cock. Heat and shivers spill down his spine, triggered by the grazing stroke of Holden’s thumb smearing oil delicately across his opening. 

“Fuck,” Bill curses, dragging his mouth away from the pillow, “Holden-”

Holden hums a soft reply, and switches from rubbing with his thumb to dragging a pair of fingers up and down the cleft. When Bill’s hips curl away with an overstimulated shudder, he pulls him back into position with a firm hand on his hip. 

“I thought you were relaxing.” Holden says, his tone light with both amusement and satisfaction. 

“Fuck. I’m trying.” 

“Well, I need you to relax so I can relax.” Holden replies, rubbing his own hard cock against the back of Bill’s thigh. “You’re going to drive me fucking crazy writhing around like that.”

Bill’s face flushes unbearably hot, and he hides his cheeks in the pillows. 

“I want to make you come just like this.” Holden murmurs, pressing his fingertip to the hole. 

Bill’s mouth shudders open in a choked cry as Holden’s finger breaches him slowly, steadily. 

“Fuck.” He whimpers, locking his knees against the mattress and pushing back against the divine pressure of one finger nudging inadequately inside him. 

Holden’s finger goes in all the way to the knuckle before retreating again, only to repeat the same slow, torturous penetration again and again. The touch is methodical, not at all like the eager, sometimes rough ministrations Bill is guilty of in the heat of passion. It’s almost more than he can bear, feeling his body submit gradually, feeling Holden’s finger grazing at his prostate, awakening soft flights of tingles across his straining, flushed body. He’s too paralyzed by mounting pleasure to demand for more or thrust back against Holden’s torturously slow touch. He lays still, frozen, trembling, listening to the slick squelch of Holden’s finger aided by the oil gaining more and more wiggle room inside the taut rim, and feeling his cock throb with the dull ache of need. 

“That’s good.” Holden murmurs, his voice shaking ever so slightly. 

He keeps one hand cradling Bill’s ass cheek while he withdraws his finger and applies more oil. Bill feels it trickling down inside him before Holden’s fingers chase after it, two of them delving into him with ease now that he’s slick, pliant, and open. 

“Jesus. Fuck.” Bill groans, grabbing into the headboard to brace himself against the white-hot flash of pleasure. 

Holden’s fingers form a deliberate hook inside him, going deep to find the swollen, tender prostate. They take up a slow rhythm, pressure coming off and on, deepening at the lowest point of the circular caress, easing up at the top. It’s enough to build the arousal to an unbearable, pulsing ache while also keeping Bill balanced on the verge of orgasm, glimpsing climax just beyond his reach. 

Bill’s muscles stiffen again, this time with anticipation. He knots his fingers in the sheets, fists shaking as his whole body strains for orgasm. It’s so close, everything clamped down and hot and aching, but Holden’s touch keeps drifting away at just the right moment to stop him from crumbling into climax. 

Suddenly, Holden’s fingers retreat entirely. 

Bill opens his eyes, and pants against the pillow. He’s practically seeing stars, his whole body humming with half-realized orgasm. The dull ache compounding in his groin is almost more than he can take, a raw itch that he’d rather escape if it doesn’t resolve into climax in the next few minutes. 

Holden’s weight lifts off the back of his thighs. 

“Turn over.” He orders, quietly. 

Bill urges his trembling body to follow the command, and spills onto his back in the middle of the sheets with a choked groan. His cock bobs against his belly, deep pink with arousal and flexing with swollen veins. The tip gleams with needy juices in the low light, the tiny, pearlescent drop betraying his desperation. 

Holden strips the boxers from his knees, and urges Bill’s legs apart. His expression is set with determination and glowing victoriously. 

“Why are you stopping?” Bill asks, impatiently. 

“I want to see you come.” Holden says, crawling between his spread knees. 

One hand grazes down Bill’s inner thigh, sparking a wave of tingles. He catches hold at the underside of Bill’s knees, and pushes his legs up toward his chest. This time, when he adds more of the oil to his hands, Bill can’t look away or hide his face in the pillow as the slick digits seek out his opening. 

“Jesus.” The curse staggers from his chest at the blissful pressure of Holden’s paired fingers delving into him again. They go straight to his prostate, finding him firm and swollen and practically overflowing with pent-up desires. 

“You’re close?” Holden murmurs, his gaze intent on Bill’s pinched expression of concentration and the shivers rippling down his body. 

“Mm, yes-” Bill chokes out, squeezing his eyes shut. 

He focuses on the muscles clamping down like a vice in his groin, the aching heat reaching critical mass. Holden’s fingers massage thoroughly against him despite the squeezing muscles, never once straying or losing rhythm. Quickly, everything except the desperate scream of need through his taxed body fades away; in seconds, he’s blinded by erupting pleasure, every muscle in his body seizing fiercely, the climax hitting him with a wave of euphoric bliss. He feels the release deep inside of him - cum draining thoroughly from his balls, up his twitching, untouched cock, spilling in copious spurts over his belly; and it keeps coming, orgasm seeming to last for one small eternity, brighter and deeper and stronger than he’s ever felt before. 

When he finally opens his eyes, the world all fragile and two-dimensional around him, Holden is biting back a grin. He presses a kiss to Bill’s knee as he carefully withdraws his hand. 

Bill tries to say something. A thank you. A curse. Anything. But his mouth keeps moving like a fish out of water, empty air emerging in a raspy, shaken breaths. 

Holden leans down to end the hapless attempt with the understanding stroke of his lips, eating up Bill’s choked whimpers of pleasure and tasting his satisfaction. As the kiss deepens, he urges his tongue past Bill’s teeth; and Bill doesn’t resist, letting Holden lead the kiss until they’re both panting and dizzy, foreheads nudging lazily against one another. 

“Happy birthday.” Holden whispers. 

Bill opens his eyes to find Holden’s eyes barely an inch away, swallowing him. He lets out a hoarse laugh. “I think that’s the best birthday gift I’ve ever received.”

Holden purses his lips against a pleased chuckle before he pulls back. “Don’t move. I’ll get you cleaned up.” 

*

After Holden uses a damp washcloth to clean him up, he brings two wine glasses into the bedroom to pour out some of the champagne. Laying among the disheveled sheets, he taps his glass to Bill’s. 

“Cheers.” 

“Cheers.” Bill replies, taking a sip of the bubbling champagne. “To you, and your surprise birthday party planning skills.”

Holden’s mouth is rosy around the rim of the wine glass. He looks good all hot and bothered. Bill has always thought so, but there’s something intensely pleasurable about his focus on Bill’s needs rather than his own - despite their obvious presence in the still half-hard lump beneath his briefs. 

“To you.” Holden returns, leaning over to drop a kiss on Bill’s mouth. “Forty-nine laps around the sun. How does it feel?”

“Exhausting.” Bill says, then smiles softly. “Exhilarating. Like I’ve just started living.”

Holden nuzzles his forehead against Bill’s, releasing a quiet, tremulous sigh. “Me, too. I’m so glad I’m here with you - that we’re here together.”

“So am I.” 

Holden reclines back against the pillows, the tenderness on his face replaced by self-satisfied amusement. “You haven’t really lived unless you’ve experienced an orgasm like that.”

“No, you haven’t.” Bill agrees, fighting back a smile. “That was incredible.”

Holden drains the last of his champagne, and sets the glass over on the nightstand. “How about another?”

“Another?” 

“Orgasm.” Holden says, sliding his hand down his belly to tug at the waistband of his underwear. “It is your birthday.”

“That it is.” 

Holden’s mouth broadens with a smile as Bill quickly discards his own glass, and crawls eagerly between Holden’s thighs. He smothers him with a kiss as he helps Holden strip away his briefs, and locks their hips against one another to create grinding friction. 

“Fuck.” Bill mutters as he disengages his mouth from Holden’s panting, moaning lips. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Get me so fucking hard so fast.” Bill murmurs, reaching down to clasp both their cocks in his hand, rubbing them together until he can feel the pulses melding. “God, I want to fuck you.”

Holden makes a sound somewhere between a groan and a chuckle. “I want that, too. I want you to come inside me.”

Bill mutters a curse, and reaches for the oil. They share the lubricant between them, Bill’s fingers going into Holden while Holden strokes his cock to full hardness again. By the time he’s thrusting inside, that dazed sense of erotic hypnosis has fallen over him again. He realizes he hasn’t once thought about the case since he got home. He hasn’t worried that he’s putting a burden on Holden’s shoulders by letting Holden take care of him. He hasn’t thought about anything but enjoying what they have together in the privacy of this room, in the shadows between one day and the next. For the first time in awhile, he’s looking forward to the next forty-nine laps around the sun. 


End file.
